


House Hunters

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Reality TV, Season/Series 03, Sick Dean Winchester, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sick Dean Winchester is disturbed by cable TV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> Set during season 3, which is right before the collapse of the housing market.

“Fifth time’s a charm,” said Dean to no one, his voice raspier than usual. He ached everywhere. He’d been knocked around plenty in bar brawls or just by the usual evil creepy crawlies, but this felt like the bruises were coming from the inside. Using what little strength he had to push himself off the sticky bathroom floor, he quickly glanced at the mirror and confirmed what he felt: He looked like shit with his pale, clammy skin and sweaty hair. A night of vomiting did not do a body good.

Once Dean had started puking and Sam was convinced it wasn’t a hangover, he’d dashed to the 24-hour pharmacy across the street. Sam supplied Dean with Theraflu, Gatorade and Kleenex, and since he was already awake, left to stake out the guy they suspected was really a ghoul. Dean worried about his baby brother hunting alone, but he’d have to get comfortable with that reality soon enough.

The thin windows did little against Michigan’s blasting January wind. Already chilled from sickness, Dean added Sam’s comforter to his own. Between the medicine and the lack of sleep, he wanted nothing more than to take a nap, but the couple in the room next to him was screaming. Curled up at the foot of the bed like some sort of mutant caterpillar, he turned on the TV.

The shithole they were staying in had a sorry excuse for cable. His stomach rejected the cooking show. One movie channel was showing a horror movie with an abundance of severed limbs and screaming teens; another some mind-bendy Oscar-baity thing starring a former alcoholic on a comeback tour. Both sounded too exhausting. Reruns of _Friends_ , dog therapy, basketball, reruns of _The Mary Tyler Moore Show_ , an infomercial for an “authentic cubic zirconia” bracelet designed by a former starlet of the 1980s, some sweaty guy yelling about the stock market, and something called _House Hunters_.

A tanned, busty blonde sitting beside a thin guy in black-framed glasses explained, “We have a good starter home, but we deserve to move into the big leagues. Fifteen-hundred-square-feet is just too small for the three of us. Plus, I need a home office for my party planning business.”

“And I need a place to practice my drums,” said the man. “We’re thinking 5000 minimum.”

“We also want to make sure that Kyler can have lots of friends over without us invading her space.”

“Don’t want Mom and Dad stumbling in and being an embarrassment.”

Dean blew his nose, a small hill of Kleenex building on the floor.

“Right now we’re constantly stepping all over each other with our two bathrooms, so we need at least three.” The woman emphatically waved her hands.

“This one takes forever in the morning,” the man jokingly confided to the television audience. She playfully swatted him and they laughed at their cleverness.

“So, like, three rooms per person?” Dean muttered. “Ain’t family supposed to be on top of each other?”

They rejected the firmly-within-their-budget first house because there weren’t his-and-hers sinks in the master bathroom, and the kitchen hadn’t been updated since the 90s. (“Hunter green tile? So gauche!”) Now they waffled between the second house – a five-bedroom McMansion beyond their means but equipped with a pool, outdoor kitchen, and small theater – and the third – a fully renovated old brick home with three fireplaces, professional landscaping, and a giant chandelier in the entry that was also more than what they could afford.

Dean turned off the TV.

Sam had told him to get plenty of rest, get better, and stay off of his computer. Never one to follow instructions, Dean grabbed Sam’s laptop. “No way houses are sellin’ for half a million dollars!” he grumbled as he searched for a real estate site. Since they were in Grand Rapids, he checked Grand Rapids listings. Sure enough, all the comfort of the suburbs – nice lawns, quiet streets, open kitchens, high ceilings – costing just shy of an arm and a leg.

“Who needs more than a place to sleep, a place to eat, an’ a place to take a dump?” he grumbled as he flipped through listing after listing for “the gourmet kitchen of your dreams” and “a great space for entertaining.”

Then he thought about Lisa and Ben just one state over. Ben would need a yard or a park nearby for playing catch. Lisa liked to cook and have people over for dinner (at least he thought he remembered her saying that). It would be nice to have somewhere to stow Baby in weather like this, and maybe he could show Ben a thing or two about engines. They’d need at least two bedrooms, three if–

There was no if. He had less than six months. Non-negotiable. Daydreams were a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Keys rattled in the door, and Dean snapped the laptop shut. Weary, Sam shuffled in with a cup of coffee. “Why are you back?”

“He knew I was tailing him. Shook me. Maybe I’m just too tired from not – Is that my laptop?”

“It’s called porn, Sam. A guy gets bored.”

“Unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head and peeling off his snow-dusted coat.


End file.
